love
is like a little bird fluttering in the sky
with urgent, fast moving wings
(for it did not flutter so, how could it fly!),
but slow movements
on its long migration
to Florida.
similarly,
love migrates each winter
to Florida.
today i woke up,
flustered, as always,
fluttering my non-wings
on my way north,
or more accurately,
nowhere,
or at least nowhere i'll remember
tomorrow.
i promise my morning brain
this morning,
that i believe
in love.
and birds.
but who doesn't believe in
birds?
they are so easy to believe in;
their flight bearing a miracle a minute
unlike santa's elusive sleigh,
or love's invisible
annual migration to Florida.
like the birds,
love flies in a flock.
to Florida.
after trying to stick to young people's
suntan lotion on rocky beaches
over the fleeting
new england summer.
its many contradictory dimensions
synch strokes of feathers
fluttering in small and urgent
flutters
back home
to a state full of certain someones.
i only know this love
that i do believe in
from Florida,
where Sally and Mabon
held wrinkly, indistinguishable, hands,
(for it would have been stranger had they not),
walking up stone steps
for Sunday church.
(for where else would they have been,
but going to church
in Florida
on a Sunday
with birds flying all around
and love unfluttering their
hands,
just slowly swaying them
together as one,
after a long migration
south).
DLS
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